


Things Worth Fighting For

by Foxipaw



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Beau needs a McFreakin' hug, Episode 93 Spoiilers, F/F, SOFT GAYS, angry Jester, no edits we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 09:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22493803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxipaw/pseuds/Foxipaw
Summary: After dealing with Isharnai the Hag, the M9 return to Kamordah and collapse into the first crappy Inn they find. All they want is to rest and lick their wounds, reflect on what they could have lost, but Jester has some things to work out with Beau before they can fall asleep.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 3
Kudos: 214





	Things Worth Fighting For

“You were just going to _leave?_ What the _fuck_ , Beau? _”_

The ramshackle door slammed shut behind her.

Shocked and weary the party had made a hasty escape back to Kamordah, all the while pestering the tiefling cleric about what she had given, getting only ‘Not now,’ and ‘Keep walking,’ and ‘Faster guys, come _on_ ,’ in response. Beau looked like she had seen a ghost, and Jester seemed to be growing more irate with every mile they put between them and Isharnai.

The group tumbled into the first shitty inn they could find with enough spare rooms, forgoing drinks in favor of resting their weary bones. Beau had barely spoken a word. Her eyes looked haunted. She had walked up the creaking stairs without a word or a backwards glance, not seeming to know or care that Jester was hot on her heels.

At least, not until that outburst, not until the slamming door.

What would normally make the monk whirl and curse hardly seemed to phase her. Beau slumped down, sitting on the edge of a straw mattress. She curled in on herself.

Jester stalked forward, grabbed a fistful of the cloak draped around Beau’s shoulders, and heaved her back into standing position.

“What. The. _Fuck_. Were you _thinking_?”

Beau blinked.

Jester gave her a shake.

“You were right,” she rasped out at last.

Jester blinked.

“Angry Jester really is a sight to behold.”

The cleric scoffed and dropped her hold, causing Beau to fall back into a curled heap. Jester let out an enraged nigh-screech and turned, arms crossed, to face the door.

Beau’s head was swimming. She had been ready to do it, planned on doing it, would have done it, and still didn’t really understand how things had ended up playing out. When the hag asked for the thing that would cause her the most misery, _unending_ misery, Beau knew exactly the price. Something of equal value. Nott’s family for Beau’s. Equal exchange.

“It was that easy for you, huh?” Jester asked quietly. Beau heard the waver in her voice, but didn’t know if she was crying from anger or sadness or both. Probably both, she figured. “You weren’t in there for very long at all.”

Beau hung her head, and looked down at her hands. “It’s not like that, Jes.”

The tiefling whirled on her. “Then what, pray tell, _is_ it like? Because I thought we meant more to you than that.”

“You _do_! You guys mean _everything_ to me, and that’s why I knew it would work!” Beau raised her voice, but still couldn’t find the strength to stand. Every last drop of fortitude, of strength, had been sapped from her bones.

Jester stalked up again, only to jab a finger forcefully into her chest. Her voice was quiet and dangerous when she hissed out, “The rest of us would fight for this family tooth and nail. We would give up everything to _keep_ it. And you wanted to give it all away, and I’m trying to decide whether or not I hate you for it.”

Beau didn’t think she had the words in her to respond to that, to let Jester know that the thought of her hating Beau felt like a dagger through the heart. It was Skingorger plunging into her chest cavity all over again. That she _would_ have given anything to get Nott back to her family. Her loving husband, a child she adored, a happy home. Beau would never have that for herself and frankly didn’t think she deserved it even if she could. She’d never be able to rebuild her own family, but if she could rebuild someone else’s…

She couldn’t tell Jester how much she hated herself too. For this and for more. Dark blots began to appear on her leggings, warm splotches on her arms and hands still curled against her abdomen.

“I didn’t _want_ to, Jester. It was a family for a family. The asshole loner becomes a loner for good, and the loving mother exiled for something she couldn’t control gets to go back to a home she would tear apart two nations for. Besides, making myself miserable is sorta my thing, ya know?”

It was a weak attempt at self-deprecating humor and neither woman laughed.

Beau sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her running nose. “Besides, I’m practically cursed already. Even before all this, before seeing my father again, I always wondered if it was just a matter of time.”

“Beau, that’s bullshit and you know it.” Jester was still angry, but her voice had lost some of its heat. “We’re not going anywhere, and I used to think I could say the same about you.”

Beau closed her eyes as tears began to fall in earnest. It was starting to look like maybe she was going to lose everything anyways. The rest of the group might not be as upset as Jester, but without her how much was really left?

“I’m sorry, Jes. It would have killed me to lose you. She wanted misery, so I was going to give it to her. For Nott.”

“And what about _me_?” Jester hiccuped, half a shout and half a sob. “Did you even think about that?”

Jester was close enough to her, practically kneeling down in front of the edge of the bed. Beau leaned forward and shoved her forehead into the crook between her shoulder and neck, half expecting Jester to push her away. Instead she felt cool arms wrap around her while her shoulders shook.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Beau whispered through the sobbing. “ _I don’t want to lose you_ ,” again and again, the only mantra she could get out through what was unequivocally a break down.

She was too exhausted to care at this point, about what she looked like or what Jester thought of her weakness. Beau would do anything as long as she didn’t hate her. Eventually Jester moved to sit on the bed beside her but she never lessened her hold. Beau wasn’t sure whether she was pulled into the tiefling’s side or whether she fell there, but she ended up there all the same.

She felt the ties being worked slowly from her hair, and then fingers carding through the disheveled locks. Beau was bone weary and yearning for sleep, but terrified to let herself slip into it in case Jester was gone when she woke back up.

“Beau,” Jester said softly. “We’re not going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere. I promise, you’re not going to lose us. Choosing to hurt yourself doesn’t make it any better than worrying it might happen out of your control.”

That was the thing about Jester, she thought absently. She masqueraded as a happy-go-lucky, shallow, child-like girl but she was a woman with depths all her own. Wisdom she didn’t let show very often. And whatever she had done to Isharnai to get her to break the curse, Beau knew that it was something none of them would have had the balls to attempt or the ability to pull off. She was sure of it.

And yet… “Don’t promise that,” Beau rasped. “Don’t promise it will never happen, because it would break me if you couldn’t keep it.”

The fingers in her hair stalled, then scritched a bit, then continued.

“Well, then I’ll promise this instead. I’ll do everything I possibly can to make sure it never happens, as long as you promise the same.”

Beau let out a wet, choked laugh. If this night had made her realize anything, it was probably that nothing in the world was worth losing Jester. Her best friend. The only person she wanted to keep at her side more than anything else in the world.

“Yeah. Yeah, Jes. I promise.” She sniffed, and then added, “I’m sorry you have to put up with such a moron.”

Jester slapped her lightly in the arm with her free hand. “We’re going to work on that self-deprecation too.”

“I make no promises about that. It fuels me.”

Jester did laugh at that, though it was more of a scoff. There was another long pause, though Jester never stopped running her fingers through her hair, along the short stubble on the side of her head, before she spoke again. “That hag really thought that continuing the war and you losing us was worth the same thing?”

Beau sniffled again, and nodded. “Losing the Mighty Nein would be the worst thing that could ever happen to me. Losing you,” she added quietly, a barely audible whisper, and maybe she wouldn’t have if Beau weren’t so utterly spent.

Jester pulled away then, pulling a disgruntled but ultimately wordless murmur of discontent from Beau, and held her by the shoulders. Violet eyes pierced into her own, puffy and red as they were. Beau was sure she looked a mess, and couldn’t hold the gaze. She looked down.

“Beau,” Jester said quietly, but with enough intent that Beau wondered if she was going to start yelling at her again. “Look at me.”

Unable to deny her anything, she did.

Jester’s right hand moved up to cup her cheek, fingers trailing the edge of her jaw, and guided her in.

The kiss was soft, her lips cool, flavored by salt from their mingled tears. They were still at first, surprised and savoring the contact, before Beau began to work her jaw and deepen it. Just a bit, though. Her heart hammered in her ribcage like a trapped sparrow, fluttering desperately towards freedom. Her own hands came up, one at Jester’s hip and another to cup her face, keening for more contact only to reassure herself that Jester wouldn’t disappear in a puff of smoke. Not to restrain or be forceful, but like the warmth of a blanket on a cold night. Just to comfort.

All things considered, it was a brief exchange. They both pulled back breathless, sated, equal parts confused and content.

“I don’t want to lose you either, you know,” the cleric whispered at last.

Beau’s brain stuttered, coughed and chugged, struggled to reboot. Finally she whispered back, “I didn’t think you’d feel the same way.”

Jester smiled, soft and maybe still a little sad. “I’m still learning my way around this ‘love’ thing.”

Beau’s heart thumped powerfully in her chest, so much so that it nearly took her breath away.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Jester asked.

Beau shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably not. You were so into Fjord, and I got used to the idea a long time ago that just… Sticking around, making sure you were safe and happy would be enough.”

Jester looked down at their hands, fingers now entangled and resting between them. “I had an idea of what love was supposed to be. It’s always knights and princesses in the books. But Fjord never made me feel heard or seen or cared for the way you do. Like he _does_ obviously, sometimes, its just...” She shrugged. “Not the same. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”

Beau held her hands more firmly. “Well, you’ve got all the time in the world to figure out what you want. No more hags, no more deals… I’ll be here however you want me for as long as you’ll have me. I promise.”

It was possibly the most sincere thing to ever leave her mouth, but Beau meant every word.

Jester smiled, soft and small at first, but eventually she was beaming. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, but thanks.” She untangled one hand to run it back through Beau’s hair once again.

Beau nodded, and despite her exhaustion couldn’t help smiling back.

**Author's Note:**

> These gays are soft, these gays are good, thank you Laura Bailey and Marisha Ray for my life.


End file.
